Compromising Positions Read Free Page A

take ye to Darrow,” Donal said softly, his hand moving through her fur, scratching her affectionately behind the ear. She was still stunned by his lack of fear.
    Kirsten glanced down at the dirk in his other hand, the one he’d used to open the net, shredding hours of someone’s handiwork. He hadn’t thought twice about destroying it. Kirstin let out a growl, head low, getting quickly to her feet. She heard them before she glimpsed them, two men appearing out of the woods on foot.
    “Just my captains,” Lord Eldred announced, waving them over, but Kirsten had already escaped deeper into the woods, in the opposite direction.
    “Come back, ye ken?” Donal called after her as she disappeared into the brush.
    Kirstin crouched there for a moment, panting lightly, feeling the adrenaline course through her body as she listened to the men talking, trying to decide what to do. If it had just been the man, Donal, she wouldn’t have hesitated, but the other three men gave her pause. The two that had gotten away—where were they? She was sure they had been traveling together, but the man, Lord Eldred, had called them poachers.
    Mayhaps she’d been mistaken, her senses changed from hanging so high up in the tree…
    She glimpsed Donal pulling an arrow from that same tree she’d been hanging in—the arrow that had nearly hit him.
    “Well-made. A local arrow?” Lord Eldred asked, looking at it over Donal’s shoulder.
    “Aye, ’tis an honest hunter’s arrow, not unmarked, fer a poacher’s purpose.” Donal frowned at it, turning it over in his hands. Then he slid it into his own quiver, looking at the Englishman. “Thank ye fer yer assistance wit’ the marksman. I did’na wanna make two more widows t’curse t’MacFalon name if I did’na hafta.”
    “I understand.” Lord Eldred nodded, glancing toward the woods in her direction, and Donal did, too. They would be wondering about her, if she would return—a question she was pondering herself. She had options.
    She could turn tail and run home. That was one option. But had she come all this way, just to turn around again? It had taken her nearly a week to convince the wulver warriors of her need to tend to Darrow. Her need to see him, to make sure he was all right—to help heal him and make her pack whole—overwhelmed her. It had been the force that had compelled her on this journey in the first place, and she was determined to see it through.
    The man, Donal, could take her to Darrow. She sensed he was honorable, and knew from the wulver warriors who had returned, that he could be trusted. She didn’t know about the other men, but something in her said that Donal would protect her, if need be. Besides, she thought with a smile as she crouched fully behind a tall, thick oak tree, she could change into wulver form and snap all their necks before the first one could draw his blade, if she so chose.
    She walked, barefoot, out of the brush, into the clearing where they stood talking. They didn’t sense or see her until she was almost on top of them, even though she was in human form now.
    “Ah, there she is.” Lord Eldred spotted her first, his dark, glittering gaze sweeping her up and down.
    Kirsten had changed back, pulling her plaid around her to cover as much as she could. It was a versatile garment, yards of fabric that could cover her from head to toe if needed, now gathered into the semblance of a skirt, crossing in front and pinned in place to cover her breasts. Although, if the Englishmen’s gazes were any indication, she was showing far more skin than they were used to seeing.
    Donal turned toward her, smiling as she approached, his words fading away mid-sentence. She had smoothed her long, dark hair out over her shoulders, picking out the leaves and twigs as best she could, making herself as presentable as possible without the benefit of a looking glass or even a stream or pond.
    She saw the apple in Donal’s throat move up and down as he swallowed,